


Of Bards and Barbarians

by Crewe



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst (sort of), Gen, Humor (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crewe/pseuds/Crewe
Summary: Scanlan finds him on the backstreets of Ank’Harel, sitting quietly by himself on a street curb.He’s an idiot, he thinks, dismayed.Fuck.--Scanlan meets Lionel Gayheart. He's not who he wants him to be.





	Of Bards and Barbarians

**Author's Note:**

> raise your hand if you're emotionally compromised by episode 100

Scanlan finds him on the backstreets of Ank’Harel, sitting quietly by himself on a street curb. He’s on business, wearing his hat of disguise and concentrating on not bumping into anyone on the street and tipping them off that he’s approximately three feet shorter than he should be, and he really shouldn’t stop because Kaylie’s waiting for him to go over the plan for their next “customer” and he’s running late already but—

 

As he passes by he catches a glimpse of the half-orc’s face, gray skin and tattoos, and suddenly his feet stop moving of their own accord.

 

The half-orc doesn’t look up, and finally Scanlan gives up on warring with himself to just keep going, leave him, and clears his throat.

 

Still no response.

 

He clears it again.

 

When there’s still no response Scanlan turns entirely to face him, equal parts astonished and annoyed that this kid still hasn’t looked at him.

 

“A _hem_ ,” he says forcefully, his illusion mirroring him as he furrows his brow in frustration.

 

At last, the half-orc slowly looks up at him (well, at The Meat Man) and blinks.

 

“Hey man, do you need like… a tissue or something?” he asks with a look of vague concern.

 

Scanlan blinks. “What?”

 

“’Cause like… I don’t have any on me, but it sounds like you really need to cough something up, so—“

 

“No, I’m fine,” Scanlan says to cut him off. _He’s an idiot_ , he thinks, dismayed. _Fuck._

 

“Listen,” he adds, before the half-orc can lose interest and look away, or, god forbid—start saying something else. “What’s your name?”

 

And his heart stops and he does a double take because he could have _sworn_ he heard—

 

“What did you say?” he demands.

 

“Chod,” the half-orc says, and his heart starts beating again as Scanlan berates himself. When he focuses back on the kid, he realizes that he’s still talking, entirely unconcerned that this stranger hasn’t been paying attention. “So if you wanted to you could call me Lionel—“

 

“Shut up.”

 

“—Gayheart, like if you… oh. Okay.”

 

Lionel goes quiet, and he seems to be comfortable like that, patiently staring at Scanlan’s illusion like he wouldn’t mind if the conversation continues or ends, either way.

 

 _This is stupid,_ Scanlan thinks. _Just walk away._

“So, Chod,” he says anyways, because he can’t control his big mouth.

 

“What’s your name?” the kids says at the same time. Scanlan stops short, blinking.

 

“What?”

 

“What’s your name? I mean, I just realized I told you mine but you never told me yours, and it’d be weird if I just called you ‘you guy’ or whatever, so—“

 

“I’m A’sadan,” Scanlan says, offering the alias he had come up with when he decided on this crazy revenge plot. “Also known as The Meat Man.”

 

“Hi, Ace,” Chod says, waving.

 

“… Hello.” Scanlan takes a long breath in through the nose. He decides to let it slide. The poor kid probably can’t even pronounce it, anyways. “As I was saying. Chod—“

 

“Lionel.”

 

“—Whatever. Are you any good in a fight?” Scanlan looks him over, and even sitting on a street corner Lionel looks huge. In dire need of a bath and a good meal, but nonetheless not someone you’d want to meet in a dark alley. Well, at least not until he opened his mouth.

 

Lionel nods, an easy grin spreading across his face. “Oh yeah, I’m real good at that. The ducks taught me everything I know.”

 

“The ducks,” Scanlan says blankly. _Sweet salacious Sarenrae_ , he thinks. _Someone save me from myself._

 

Lionel nods. “Yeah, yeah, the ducks. They’re real great, and real smart, too. They know lots of stuff about the area. I can show you if you want,” he says, and looks like he’s about to _do_ something, oh god what is he doing, why is he moving his arms like that—

 

“No, no, that’s okay!” Scanlan says hastily, waving his hands until Lionel reluctantly stops doing whatever the _fuck_ that was and sits back down.

 

“Okay, but I promise it’s really cool—“

 

“I believe you,” he says, finally lowering his hands as Lionel shuts up. Scanlan heaves a sigh that’s only mostly internal. _I’m gonna regret this. I_ already _fucking regret this. Why am I doing this?_ “Lionel,” he says, shifting his weight and snapping his fingers when the half-orc’s attention starts to wander off. “Lionel, how would you like a job?”

 

Lionel blinks. “Like, for me?”

 

“Yes, for you. A job. Do you want one?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Lionel says. “What do I do?”

 

“All you have to do is walk around behind me and look really scary, and maybe kill some people. Can you do that?”

 

Lionel nods eagerly. “Oh yeah, the ducks taught me how to kill to survive, so—“

 

“That’s great.” Scanlan wishes he could modify his own memory so he’d never heard that sentence. “Just do whatever I tell you to do, and I’ll pay you, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Lionel says easily, and he’s starting to sound like a broken record. Scanlan thinks he could probably tell this kid to do _anything_ and he’d be willing to at least try it.

 

 _At least I’ll be getting him off the streets_ , he tells himself. _That’s why I’m doing it. So he doesn’t get sucked up into something worse_.

 

“Great,” he says, then takes a deep breath. “I’m going to be one of the most powerful men in this city, Lionel, and you’re going to help me.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” he says, slowly picking himself up from the curb. He’s gigantic by any reasonable standard, but Scanlan still finds himself glancing slightly too high to find his face.

 

 _Get your shit together_ , he snaps at himself. Outwardly, he nods at Lionel and keeps walking down the street at a faster pace than before, wondering how the hell he’s going to explain this Kaylie.

 

\--

 

When Scanlan shows up to their meeting an hour late and with a half-orc in tow, Kaylie is not pleased, to say the least.

 

“What the hell is this?” she says bluntly, waving a hand at Lionel. “Is this why I’ve been sitting around with my thumbs up my ass for the last hour?”

 

“This is Lionel,” Scanlan says evenly. “He’s going to be working for us from now on.”

 

“Oh, is he now?” Kaylie asks, planting her hands on her hips. “What’s he do, bake?”

 

“Actually, I’ve never tried baking, but I think it seems sort of—“

 

“Lionel, shut up,” Scanlan says. To Kaylie, he adds, “Look, he’s just gonna come with us to meetings where there might be trouble to intimidate them, and he can rough up people we need to rough up. He’ll be like our enforcer.”

 

Kaylie raises her eyebrows. “An enforcer, eh?” She turns to Lionel. “Can you fight then, monster man?”

 

Lionel bobs his head. “Yeah, I love fighting! The d—“

 

“How about you keep that part to yourself, Lionel,” Scanlan interrupts him loudly.

 

“Keep what part to yourself?” Kaylie asks, narrowing her eyes and peering at the unwary half-orc suspiciously.

 

If he were four feet taller, Scanlan would slap a hand over Lionel’s mouth to prevent him from speaking, but alas all he can do is just keep talking so the half-orc doesn’t get the chance to say anything.

 

“It’s not important,” he says. “Look, we were gonna have to hire people to do this for us soon, anyway. If he turns out to be useless, we’ll just set him loose. Okay?”

 

Kaylie gives him a long, measured look, then shrugs and drops her hands. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll get him a sword or something and he can stand around and look mean. Just—find a corner for him so we can do what we came for, all right?”

 

“All right,” Scanlan says, eager to end the conversation. He quickly turns and ushers Lionel out the door and into the next room, where he points at the far corner.

 

“Okay, Lionel,” he says. “This is your first test, all right? I want you to go stand in that corner and be very quiet. Look out the window and count how many birds fly by.”

 

“Okay,” Lionel says, walking towards the corner. Halfway there, he turns, looking troubled. “Uh… I can’t really count that great.”

 

Scanlan sighs. “That’s fine, just… do your best. We’ll come get you for dinner later.”

 

His face lights up. “Oh, man, I get _food_? _Sweet_!”

 

Inside the illusion, Scanlan closes his eyes. _Fuck. We have to keep him now. God damn it._

 

“… Yeah, Lionel. See you later. Stay in the corner.”

 

Lionel waves to him as Scanlan retreats back into the room with Kaylie and, after a quick look around to make sure no one can see, removes his hat of disguise.

 

Kaylie looks fantastically unimpressed.

 

“Do you make a habit of adopting monster men, then?” she asks. “This one’s a bit smaller, if I’m remembering right.”

 

Scanlan rubs his face. “It’s not like that,” he protests weakly. “He’ll be useful.”

 

“Sure,” Kaylie snorts. “Whatever you say.”

 

She doesn’t press him on it, and he’s grateful, because she can see through him like nobody else but he’s happier planting his flag firmly in the land of denial.

 

They quickly get down to business, and when they’re done and go to collect Lionel, the window is opening and he is exchanging cheerful quacks with, by some bizarre force of nature or otherwise, a mallard duck.

 

Kaylie stares, slack-jawed, and Scanlan cradles his face in his hands and wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

 

\--

 

Lionel doesn’t drink. Lionel has no sense of mischief, nor craving for wild adventures. It is entirely possible that Lionel has never actually spoken to a woman before.

 

Lionel’s laugh is an odd, quiet chuckle. Lionel has no grace in his movement, and has a tendency to trip over himself. Lionel has probably never been truly angry before in his life.

 

He tries to pet wildlife and is scared of children and once when Scanlan had pointed out a sparkly rock Lionel had just blinked at it and then pointed out a flagpole.

 

Lionel is, in short, not at all what Scanlan wants him to be.

 

He resents him, at first, but Kaylie gives him enough sly looks that he refuses to fire him just to prove that he hired the kid for good business reasons alone. He knows it’s pointless, but his ego won’t let him do otherwise.

 

And over time, the resentment fades.

 

Kaylie likes him, though she’ll never admit it. A man goes for her in an alley and Lionel lifts him one-handed and slams him into a wall, then turns to her and grins like a puppy looking for praise. That night, she pats him on the shoulder as she walks past him at dinner and starts taking him with her on business of her own accord, instead of letting Scanlan badger her into it.

 

He’s funny, in an ingenuous, oblivious way. Any conversation beyond a simple exchange of orders and acknowledgement leaves him at least half the time wanting to bang his head against the wall until he forgets it, but slowly that percentage starts to decrease, and when he rolls his eyes he finds himself rolling them with a certain amount of affection mixed in with the exasperation.

 

He’s _good_ , is the thing. He’s a capable bodyguard, and despite his otherwise gentle nature has no problem throwing down for his employers. He’s willing to do whatever he’s told, and while he tends to forget details if he’s given too complex instructions, and he should not be trusted in the least with sensitive information, it turns out he’s very good at transporting, protecting, and investigating anything they need. As their operation and their power grows, he becomes an invaluable asset.

 

Lionel isn’t his friend, not really; Scanlan doesn’t _hang out_ with him, or spend much time talking to him aside from business. He can’t get too close—can’t let him see through his disguise and compromise the entire operation. But he looks out for him, as much as he can when he’s regularly sending the kid on dangerous missions. He can’t bring himself to regret picking Lionel up from the street corner.

 

\--

 

He brings Lionel with him to Whitestone. He doesn’t have many options, since he lost so many men in the ziggurat, and secretly he wants a barbarian on his side just in case things go south.

 

The mere thought of seeing his friends again, especially seeing them without getting the chance to apologize, hurts, cuts him deeply. He hasn’t let himself think of them, outside his darkest times and in his dreams at night, in a year. He still doesn’t think he’s ready, but he has to. Vox Machina need to know what’s going on.

 

“All right, Chod,” he says as they stand in the quiet lobby of the tavern he bought out.

 

“Lionel,” Lionel says patiently, as he has the last thousand times over the past eight months.

 

“I need you to find some people in town, and bring them here to speak with me. Do _not_ tell them I’m The Meat Man. Do you understand?”

 

Lionel nods. “Got it. Tell them you’re The Meat Man.”

 

“No, no, the opposite of that.”

 

Lionel blinks. “… Got it.”

 

Scanlan takes a deep breath, and lets it go. “All right, then. Hurry.”

 

As Lionel turns to go, Scanlan looks at him, sees the gray skin and tattoos that stopped him at first, and wonders if Vox Machina will notice them, too. He wonders what they’ll think.

 

As he moves to get ready for his friends’ arrival, he sighs, and thinks to himself, _I hope Grog doesn’t kill him._


End file.
